


For Trying To Reach The Things That I Can't See?

by bloodsugar



Series: Am I Wrong [6]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Bundesliga, Dating, Developing Relationship, Feelings, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 17:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2589818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodsugar/pseuds/bloodsugar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It has been over a week since Robert left Dortmund, and not so true to form, he has been listening to some slow songs. Usually, he’s more of a pop or RnB guy – as is Marco, they’d long bonded over their common taste in music – but in the past couple of days Robert has discovered the appeal of ballads. It isn’t an appeal he wants to develop a long term taste for, because that would mean that this sense of longing and nostalgia has become permanent. And that, is the last thing Robert wants. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Trying To Reach The Things That I Can't See?

 

 

_So am I wrong_   
_For thinking that we could be something for real?_   
_Now am I **[w](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bg1sT4ILG0w)** rong_   
_For trying to reach the things that I can't see?_   
_But that's just how I feel,_   
_That's just how I **[f](http://footiez.tumblr.com/tagged/lewaneus)** eel_

 

 

 

It has been over a week since Robert left Dortmund, and not so true to form, he has been listening to some slow songs. Usually, he’s more of a pop or RnB guy – as is Marco, they’d long bonded over their common taste in music – but in the past couple of days Robert has discovered the appeal of ballads. It isn’t an appeal he wants to develop a long term taste for, because that would mean that this sense of longing and nostalgia has become permanent. And that, is the last thing Robert wants.

 

Idly he thinks that maybe there is some sort of irony or payback in the fact that the way he feels now is probably equivalent to the way Marco has been feeling for months. And that theory is another thing Robert is not ready for. If Marco has felt like this since Robert left, that is four months too long, and all Robert wants to do is go back in time and fix everything, despite his complete inability to do so. So instead, he tries to distract himself with the present – a time in which he is perhaps less of an asshole to one of the people he cares most about.

 

They’ve been texting back and forth, not too much, but a couple of texts every day or so. Robert considers this a sign that whatever their relationship is now, it has been rekindled and there is hope for it not to crash and burn. The first few days after his return Robert had been more optimistic about it, going as far as to consider asking Marco to be exclusive, but with each passing day the reality of this long-distance situation they’ve got going on sunk in further. And then suddenly, there Robert was, on Spotify, listening to a playlist called “[5](https://play.spotify.com/user/nme.com/playlist/5cgJVFFgOrWxQzHYKwZM4Z?play=true&utm_source=open.spotify.com&utm_medium=open)0 Beautifully Sad Songs” – something even sadder, coming from him. That playlist has become a part of his daily routine, and Robert isn’t proud, nor is he happy about it. Maybe Marco would find some sort of justice in Robert’s late-to-the-party misery, but Robert doesn’t tell him about it. Why discuss their shared yearning, when as adults they could just drown in it privately.

 

Robert doesn’t know much – why he’d ever thought that there didn’t need to be pain for desire to be called “yearning”; how he’s going to travel thousands of miles each time missing Marco becomes unbearable;  what to say to excuse himself from a training session with Bayern just so he can call Marco and hear his voice. He doesn’t know where his head had been before, or how he’d thought keeping in touch – properly – might be remotely easy, because annoyingly enough this is one of the harder things Robert has had to deal with in the past half a decade of his life. The list is endless, but if there is one thing Robert knows, it is that he hates this situation and something needs to be done about it.

 

But he isn’t all powerful, and there are things about their lives he has absolutely no power over, so Robert is essentially stuck revising his calendar over and over, trying to fit in a trip to Dortmund here and there, and there, and there as well. Over the course of November, he puts a prospective whole five trips to Dortmund, and then circles the ones who feel most realistic – the number going down to three. Then as he looks at his schedule – matches, training, some social events, and “Marco” – he feels relief for the first time in a week. If he actually manages a full three trips to Dortmund, to see, and touch, and talk to Marco, then that’s good. Better than good even, Robert would think, but he doesn’t want to get ahead of himself. Lately fate has been getting into the habit of kicking him in the gut.

 

Sunday is the first day Robert has more or less free after training, and he takes the opportunity to actually make a proper call – not like his sneaky little ones in between work. Even if in some masochistic way he does enjoy getting hung up on that special little note in Marco’s tone, the one that tells Robert that he is missed, perhaps more so than Robert can even imagine Marco misses him. Every time he hears Marco’s voice take on that subtle little waver, Robert is taken with the wonder of how Marco can be so vulnerable with him sometimes; if he is like this with anybody else besides Robert, as well.

 

A self indulgent little voice inside Robert’s head tells him, he just might be the only one who gets to see this side of Marco – the Marco that looks at Robert with hesitant hope in his hazel eyes; the Marco that lets Robert touch him, embrace him, be inside of him; the Marco that is working on forgiving Robert for abandoning him in a team they both considered to be their one and only at one time; the Marco that now replies to Robert’s texts without delay and picks up his phone no later than the second ring even though he still hurts; the Marco that chooses to be reminded of Robert’s existence so far away they physically can not muster more than a couple of meetings per week. Robert has loved the Marco everyone knows for as long as they’ve known each other, but the Marco that only he gets to see is leading Robert to a whole different kind of feeling, one that could almost scare a man.

 

Or at least it would scare a man whose relationship isn’t being tested by the very limits of time and physics. There is enough standing in the way of “Marco and Robert”, if there _is_ a definite Marco and Robert, without Robert having some crisis about personal space or things moving too fast. These days Robert’s main problem is that he has too much personal space – space he wants Marco to be a part of; and if anything, things are moving too slow. On the daily, Robert catches himself thinking about what it would have been like if he had dated Marco while he was still in BVB. To wine and dine Marco whenever he pleases, to be a gentleman about it and take the blond nice places – to pay for the bill and then drive Marco back to his house. Robert would kill for that opportunity now, and physically uncomfortable that he may have had it in the past.

 

In-between getting hung up on the past, and trying to focus on the present without getting hung up on it too, Robert manages to make that call in the late afternoon, his little schedule for the upcoming weeks in hand. Robert has enough time to practice his opening line once before Marco picks up, his “Hello.” sounding soft and tired. Robert is momentarily overwhelmed by the urge to coo and apologize, but somehow resists it, clearing his throat quietly instead. “Hey, ba-Marco.” The nickname almost leaves Robert’s lips, and the slip is obvious as it can be. There is a moment of silence then, while Robert tries to figure out if this will end very well or very badly, or if maybe Marco has just fallen asleep on the other side waiting for Robert to just grow up, be a man, and call him ‘baby’ already.

 

“So, how are you?” Robert plays it safe, settling back into his chair and looking over his calendar again. The next opportunity he will have to go to Dortmund is in a handful of days, so if Marco is on board, Robert can buy his ticket now – and this time, he plans to fly, if only with the purpose to buy them more time together since it is faster.

 

Marco takes his sweet time responding, but Robert can hear his steady breathing on the other end, so he knows the “worst” option is that Marco might really have fallen asleep. “I’m good, ‘was napping.” The blond explains, and Robert coos on the inside again, imagining Marco snuggled up on his bed, a blanket thrown over his shoulders as he curls in and snoozes in the middle of the afternoon. Robert hasn’t taken a nap for years, but if given the opportunity, he would nap with Marco for sure. “How are you?” Marco asks, and Robert’s honest answer to that would be ‘I’m dying to come be with you and every day that we spend apart is tearing something from me piece by piece, thank you for asking.’ But that is too dramatic, and Robert doesn’t like to do dramatic, so he settles for his practiced response.

 

“I’m good.” He lies smoothly, his eyes on the prize. He will be good, soon, as soon as he gets to talk to Marco in person; as soon as he is reminded of the way Marco’s skin feels under his fingertips and the dip of Marco’s spine as the blond presses himself against him. Not that Robert has forgotten any of this; he would just like to be reminded of it regardless, please. “I’ve a couple of free days coming up, just two, Friday and Saturday, you wanna hang out?” Robert would snort at how casual he always manages to sound when talking to Marco. To any outsiders, they are just best bros, who are going to have some beers and talk about chicks and fall asleep on Marco’s couch after playing CoD until the early hours of the morning. Robert thinks he could take up acting after he is done with football, if he is so very natural at playing the no-homo role without even trying.

 

He hears Marco’s breath hitch some on the other end, and can relate, if the reason for that hitch is hopefulness. Robert has been hopeful since the moment he saw those two free days in his calendar. “Yeah, I do. I mean, sort of.” Robert’s hope freezes, and then prepares to disappear, but Marco explains. “I’m busy on Friday with training, and then the club’s getting together to consider some things.” Robert knows what those things are, BVB haven’t been doing well in Bundesliga, so he imagines the boss will be coming up with some strategies to combat the problem. Robert thinks that if anything, he should be with Marco now more so than ever, to at least try and console him though this period. Making your way down the league table takes its toll on a team and its footballers, and Robert wants to help somehow.

 

“But you’re free on Saturday? I can come on Friday and just wait for you, I don’t mind.” This is as close to admitting that he isn’t above some casual stalking as Robert gets. He doesn’t expect Marco to fall apart on his way to a team meeting, but regardless of how much he shows, it can not be that the blond is unfazed by BVB’s current predicament.

 

Marco thinks about it for a moment, Robert wondering if he is about to be called out, but then sighs a little, giving in. “Well you can come whenever you want, I like you here.” Robert both likes that Marco doesn’t say no to him, and hates the note of sadness in the younger’s voice. “But you know, I’ve some time free after that, I guess…” If they were together in person Robert would be leaning towards Marco in anticipation, but being at his home in Munich he is only at the edge of his seat. “I could come back to Munich with you, I guess.” Marco finishes, and Robert lights up at the image of them together on a plane again, leaning in close and listening to some of Marco’s music on the blond’s iPod.

 

“Sounds perfect.” Robert says, meaning it fully, a smile making his way to his face. “I’m reserving the tickets then. I come on Friday, and then you fly back to Munich with me on Sunday morning?” Robert asks to confirm, not even considering what Marco will be doing in Munich while Robert’s attending his next training sessions and playing a Champion’s League match. He’s just happy he’ll have Marco in the same city, within walking distance. No, better. “You’re staying at my house, right?” The ‘right’ is at the end of that because Robert is polite, but beyond that he has no intention of letting Marco spend time in some hotel room. Their relationship has already been confined to hotel rooms too much, as it is.

 

Thankfully, Marco either doesn’t catch on to Robert’s resolute decision, or doesn’t seem to mind it. Either way, there is an affirmative hum from the other side, one which Robert can not wait to hear in person. “Sure thing, haven’t been there yet anyway.” Marco says, his voice a mumble, and Robert imagines him relaxing and stretching on his bed. It’s a nice image, but Marco doing the same on Robert’s bed would be an even better sight to behold. He makes a mental note to make that happen as soon as they arrive on Sunday.

With the plan of those upcoming days taking shape in Robert’s mind, he decides to let Marco go. “Well, I’ll leave you to get your beauty sleep.” he murmurs, with seduction not far from his mind, enjoying the warm flame curling in his chest at the responsive little sigh Marco lets out at that.

 

“You flatter me.” The blond says, and there is a playful edge to the words, but Robert chooses to focus on the flustered dip at the end, picturing Marco’s shy wandering look and the flush of his cheeks. Robert is only spurred on by this, even if there is no guarantee it goes beyond his imagination and into reality. He decides to say more just as well. “You are beautiful.” Robert adds, every word receiving its own emphasis, because if one thing is certain, it is that Marco needs to know the truth of this - he is gorgeous. His clever, deep hazel eyes; his soft blond hair; his supple tattooed skin; his tight, lean form…Marco is beautiful, the most beautiful man Robert has ever kissed, touched, looked at. He looks perfect even just standing next to Robert, light were Robert is dark, but also fitting and complimenting their similar points so well.

 

Robert is momentarily zoned in on how good they would look together, hell, even on the cover of one of those obnoxious tabloids. He and Marco… _‘Lewandowski and Reus, together or not’_? Together, Robert thinks, almost a reflexive response to a non existent magazine article, and it is right then – as Marco snorts, dismissive but coy -  when he decides to be that grown up man, the one who is casual in the ways that matter.

 

“You’re beautiful, babe.” It’s easy to say it, easier than anything that Robert has said lately, so easy he could say it again. “Beautiful.”

 

Marco’s quiet on the other end, and Robert wants badly to be there to see his face – to see if those soft lips are turned into a smile, or into a pout? Does Marco looks conflicted, or happy, or both? Would he get all flustered and dismiss Robert’s words, or melt into Robert’s arms and kiss him instead? Robert wants to know all of these things, to experience them first hand. He wants to be together with his beautiful new boyfriend so that—and that s another topic they need to address, but perhaps it is better suited to be talked about in person.

 

“I am reserving the tickets.” Robert says, resolute, the fire in his chest growing with every passing second. He’ll buy an entire plane if it means spending more time with Marco – hanging out together, traveling together, eating and sleeping together. Robert wants all of that, and if he can’t handcuff Marco to him, then the least he can do is buy the plane tickets. Which, of course, Marco lets him believe he can do for a whole of five seconds before he speaks up softly.

 

“I’m buying my own tickets, just text me the flight number… babe.” There is a smile in his voice, a definite smile that Robert can not help but respond to, his heart jumping faster in his chest momentarily. He wouldn’t have imagined Marco calling him ‘babe’ would have such an appeal, but it does, the warmth settling in his stomach comfortably and bringing Robert some peace.

 

Robert huffs a bit under his breath, but nods in agreement in the end. Whatever Marco feels comfortable with is fine, he supposes. There are plenty of opportunities to buy Marco everything that comes to Robert’s mind – a belated Halloween present, and Thanksgiving is coming up (so what if they’re not American) and Christmas after that, and of course who doesn’t buy their lover a New Year’s Eve gift? Only cavemen, and those do not exist anymore. Robert is a civilized man with a gold credit card and manners. And he knows just what that makes him morally obliged to do in order to be a better partner to a handsome, edgy blond who’d fight him every step of the way.

 

They hang up, having agreed on a flight time. Robert wastes no time in booking his tickets, then texts Marco the flight itinerary, and then waits to receive Marco’s confirmation text that he got his own ticket. Only once his phone vibrates with the message _‘Booked and done, Dortmund to Munich, my seat is three rows behind yours.’_ does Robert think that Marco’s independent man behavior is out to get him. He should have just booked the tickets like a gentleman, straight away and without asking, Robert scowls to himself, when Marco’s next text arrives. _‘Kidding. We’re next to each other.’_ Robert sighs, a sense of relief and one of upcoming doom settling over him at once. There is a third side to Marco after all – the joker who enjoys teasing Robert, sadistic without even meaning to be. Well, it’s a sweet torture Robert will volunteer for again and again.

 

 


End file.
